


Evergreen

by SableUnstable



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Inspired by Ed Sheeran's 'Thinking Out Loud', M/M, Sexual References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SableUnstable/pseuds/SableUnstable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parental disapproval and long-held insecurities are not easy things to deal with. Add in missing someone outrageously and alcohol, and you have an unexpected mess and its aftermath that shakes Harry's foundations more than it should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evergreen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adVENTitiious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adVENTitiious/gifts).



> Gift-fic, cross-posted from my FF.net account of the same name. I do not own Harry Potter. Enjoy!

The alcohol burned as it went down. Draco sat on the landing of the fire escape of his and his boyfriend's flat, staring up at the stars for once visible through the clouds and smog covering London. His empty bedroom was through the window behind him and a large, half-finished bottle of muggle whiskey was in his wind-chapped left hand. It wasn't too bad, this stuff. Didn't have the kick of firewhiskey, but it certainly got the job done. Draco was well on his way to being totally sloshed and that was the only thing that mattered.

His legs swung in the air as he contemplated the night, the bottle lifting as he took another slug of the whiskey. He was all alone at the moment. Harry was away in Italy doing Merlin knows what – well, actually, he did know what, but he couldn't get his mind to focus past the fact that his boyfriend wasn't there, sitting beside him and sharing the bottle. Harry wasn't due home until the following day and Draco was feeling the emptiness of their flat very keenly that evening.

He should be in bed, really. He should be getting a decent night's sleep so that he was awake and refreshed enough to deal with Granger in the morning. Instead, Draco lifted the bottle again and took another mouthful, his swimming head nearly disguising the hideous ache in his chest.

Nearly.

He hated his parents. He hated them, and yet loved them ridiculously and craved their approval, his father's especially. He always had. It was half the reason why he'd given his loyalty to the Dark Lord in his later school years. That hardly-ever-seen nod of approval, that sparse, reluctant warmth in his eyes, that bright light of pride that Draco had seen many times in the eyes of other parents. Draco had wanted it desperately when he was a child, and it embarrassed and pissed him off that he wanted it just as desperately now.

He was a grown man, for Merlin's sake. He shouldn't need his father's approval anymore, shouldn't be sitting drinking in the middle of the night, just because he couldn't get Lucius's icy tone out of his head.

 _You are a Malfoy, Draco. A pureblood heir who has responsibilities to your House, not to that House's adversary_.  _I've let this go on long enough. You will stop this foolish rebellion and we will sit down and discuss the Greengrass's proposal. Mr Potter is not an acceptable life-partner and it's about time you acknowledged that, preferably before he acknowledges it himself and leaves you, humiliating this House._

A dark scowl pulled at Draco's brow as the words ran back through his mind, the flaring hurt and disappointment making him take another jerky gulp. Not an acceptable life-partner. Harry wasn't an acceptable life-partner, according to his ever arrogant, pompous father figure.

_Well, bugger that. Harry is the only life-partner I'm ever going to consider._

Draco's body swayed as he took another swig, some of the whiskey running unknown down his chin to soak into his formal dress robes. His mind was hazy, the alcohol catching up on him, but that still didn't stop the tense, judgemental lines of his father's face from playing in his mind's eye.

_Harry loves me. He won't leave me. He won't._

He didn't even know why he'd gone over that evening. He'd known something was up as soon as the formal invite had arrived, the last line on the crisp parchment stating that dress robes were mandatory making suspicion crawl through his brain, as he'd never had to dress so formally in the past unless it was for a Ball. Still, he'd gone, and had immediately regretted in when he'd walked into the drawing room and seen the pretty, dark-haired girl and her parents, looking back at him expectantly.

Astoria Greengrass.  _Stupid bint,_  he thought, misery and alcohol curling in his stomach. He'd known it was a set-up – literally – as soon as he'd walked into the room, but manners bred into him from birth had prevented him from leaving until the engagement was over.

It had been the longest night of his life.

The now three-quarters empty bottle clinked loudly as he set it down, the stars above a blur in his wavering vision. His chest burned, and he closed his eyes, pressing his fist against the unwanted feeling. Why couldn't his parents just accept that he and Harry were together and were going to stay together? The Boy-Who-Lived was it for Draco. Though he'd never imagined ending up with the overly heroic Gryffindor – hell, considering he hadn't expected to live through the war, he'd never imagined ending up with  _anyone_ – he and Harry just fit. It had taken him too long to admit that after he'd been acquitted, but with a lot of pestering from Granger and some very devious, planned, Slytherin-like courting from the Chosen One himself, he'd eventually given in. It had been the best decision of his life and he and Harry had been a unit for the three years since then. They weren't going to end anytime soon either, not if he had any say in it. Draco had thought his parents had accepted and even embraced that fact somewhat.

That evening proved quite blatantly that that wasn't the case – and probably would never be.

Draco sighed as his eyes opened, the vast, distant pricks of light above him making him feel like he was the only person on earth. His and Harry's first kiss had been under the light of the stars. Thousands of them in an empty Quidditch stadium. It had shocked and thrilled and terrified Draco, how right the feel of Potter's lips had felt against his. He'd acted like a fumbling virgin, cupping the other man's face with shaking hands and too eagerly moving his mouth over his as the stars lit the night around them. That had been the first of many kisses, some as sweet and exploratory as their first, most frantic and bruising and impatient. He rubbed his lips together as he thought of those kisses, thought of the man who meant the bloody world to him, and everything beyond it.

Sweet Merlin above, he missed the prat.

Loneliness bloomed brutally in his chest; the fight with his father compounding the feeling that was nowadays pretty foreign to him. Draco picked up the bottle, just barely missing knocking it over with his abrupt movement, and swung it up to his lips. Why wasn't Harry there? He needed him, damn it, and he was in a whole other country! His heart ached and Draco growled, again pressing his fist against the stupid, betraying muscle. He wanted his boyfriend, for fuck's sake!

"Draco?"

The voice drifted on the wind, making Draco frown. That'd sounded like Harry. But it can't have been. Harry was in Italy-

"Draco? Why are you sitting outside at one in the morning? Blimey, it's freezing out here!"

The sound of shoes on metal had Draco slowly turning his head, blinking when a wavy Harry Potter crawled through the widow behind him, the edges of his body going fuzzy, splitting, and then forming one person again. He was peering quizzically at Draco through his glasses, his bright green eyes showing puzzlement and just a little concern. Draco held his gaze as the man sat next to him, his tongue thick and his stomach swooping, warmth rushing through him as his heart soared.

"Draco? Is something the matter?"

_Ask the universe and you shall receive._

Draco grinned sloppily. "'Arry! You're back!"

"I am," Harry replied with a cautious smile, those sharp eyes taking in the stained dress robes, ruffled blond hair and cloudy grey eyes. There was a heavy scent of alcohol on the air. His eyes narrowed.

"Are you're drun- oomph!"

Tumbling backwards, Harry only just stopped both himself and Draco falling off the fire escape as his boyfriend bodily  _threw_  himself at him, the scent of alcohol growing as the blond wrapped himself around the other man and held on for dear life. Harry's arms automatically encircled the Slytherin, a burst of breathless laughter escaping him.

"Well, hey, I missed you too- Draco? What's wrong, love?"

Draco buried his face in his boyfriend's chest, his arms tightening almost to the point of pain. The Gryffindor's familiar scent enveloped him, making him clench his teeth against the tightness in his throat. He pushed his face up under Harry's chin.

"You're back," he sighed, nuzzling his neck and making Harry's breath catch. "You're back."

"Yeah, I am, but Draco, please tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me a little."

If anything, his boyfriend just snuggled in further.

"Don't wanna talk 'bout it," he mumbled. "Just wanna be here."

Harry sighed. "Okay. Well, while I like you being right where you are just as much as you do, I think it's time we went to bed, hmm? Get a little sleep?"

A wayward thought pushed its way through Draco's alcohol-soaked brain. He pulled out of Harry's arms and tried for his best seductive look.

The Boy-Who-Lived frowned in confusion at the face-twisting grimace currently on his boyfriend's face.

"I can think of much be'er things t'do than sleep," Draco slurred, swaying again and knocking over the bottle behind him, the last of the whiskey dripping into the alley below. Harry shook his head, a rueful half-smile twitching his lips.

"Yeah, you probably could, but I don't think your body would cooperate at the moment," he murmured, chuckling under his breath. "Come on, love, it's bedtime. We'll talk in the morning, yeah?"

He got to his feet and pulled Draco up as well, putting Draco's arm around his neck as he folded his own around Draco's waist. With a lot of manoeuvring, a few choice curses from Harry and a mixture of mumbling and giggling from Draco, they made it in the window. Harry shut it firmly behind them.

"Here we go. Let's get those robes off. And your shoes. That's better. Bed's right here."

As soon as Draco hit the mattress, his eyes closed. They opened again immediately when he felt Harry pull away.

"Don't go."

"I'm just going to lock the door; I'll be back in a second."

Draco sighed and turned over, groaning slightly when his head spun. The bed dipped again the next moment.

"Missed you," the Slytherin mumbled into the pillow, reaching out blindly until he was able to tug his boyfriend closer. "Don't leave 'gain."

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry whispered, curving himself around the sprawled body next to him. "Sleep, Draco. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Love you. Don' leave me."

His breathing deepened as his consciousness fled, leaving a confused and very worried brunette staring into the darkness beside him.

~0~

Draco woke slowly. Sunlight seemed to seep through his eyelids, heating his eyeballs until he twitched and shifted away from the light, his lids eventually blinking open. They immediately snapped shut again as a hiss escaped his lips, a groan following quickly when his head began to thump rhythmically.

_Sweet Salazar, how much did I bloody drink?_

"You're awake. Can you sit up? I've a hangover potion for you."

Gingerly opening his eyes again, Draco squinted at the silhouette above him, his boyfriend's features forming as his eyes adjusted to the morning light.

"Harry," he croaked, wincing and clearing his throat. "You did get home last night."

"Yup," Harry agreed, popping the 'p' and smirking a little when Draco winced again. "You didn't dream it. Sit up, now."

"What time is it?" Draco groaned, slowly lifting his body with Harry's help, closing his eyes as his stomach churned greasily. He silently cursed the fact that his boyfriend's hands were on his body and he was no fit state to even consider enjoying it.

"Just after eleven. I've already floo'd Hermione and let her know you aren't coming in today. You slept like the dead."

"I feel like the dead," the blond muttered, taking the hangover potion and downing it in one shot. He gagged as his stomach surged and his head screamed, and then abruptly it was all gone.

"Thank Merlin," he sighed, leaning back against the headboard. The bed dipped and his eyes remained closed.

"So… you want to tell me what last night was about?"

The tone was soft, concern sprinkled liberally. Draco's eyes opened when fingers intertwined with his.

"Can I get away with saying not really?" he asked quietly, staring down at Harry's hand wrapped around his. He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin between thumb and index finger, looking up when Harry drew their hands into his lap.

"Not even a little bit," the Gryffindor replied, making Draco smile weakly. He pursed his lips and focused on the bedspread, pulling away from Harry to pick at a stray thread. He needed to find out where the bedclothes he'd grown up with had come from. They were both better than old, fraying material.

"I went to dinner at the Manor last night."

The "ah," he got in return made him raise his head and meet his boyfriend's sympathetic gaze.

"I take it it wasn't just an innocent family dinner?" Harry questioned gently, frowning when Draco shook his head.

"No. It was a set-up. Astoria Greengrass and her parents were there. My father thought that it was a good time for me to get to know my future wife and in-laws. I sat through an agonizing three hours of five courses, wedding plans and idle chitchat, and then an extra hour of being scolded by my father for not showing enough interest, while my mother sat silent in the background and sneered whenever your name came up. Apparently, my three-year relationship with you is a 'foolish rebellion' that I need to acknowledge is never going to work and move on from. I walked out right after that."

"And came home to drink yourself into a stupor," Harry sighed. "Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry. I thought they were okay with us?"

"So did I," Draco muttered, finding that thread again and scowling, picking at it viciously. "We were wrong."

He looked up, eyes shuttered, when Harry placed his hand over his on the bedspread.

"I know there's nothing I can say to make this better," he began, only to stop when Draco shook his head and got out of bed.

"You don't need to say anything. You're back now and that's all that matters. I've been looking for an excuse to stop seeing my parents anyway. Now, I believe a cup of tea is in order. Care to partake?"

"All right," Harry answered slowly, his eyes on Draco's back as he scrambled off the mattress and followed the other man into the kitchen. Draco tried to ignore it as best he could. Harry saw far too much for his liking.

Reaching for the kettle, he filled it with water and got two cups out of the cupboard.  _Sugar for Harry_ , he thought, grimacing a little. How the wizard could stand adding anything to his tea was a mystery to him-

"What about the other bit?"

"What other bit?" Draco asked with a frown, turning at the sudden question. Harry was watching him steadily with his arms folded across his chest.

"The bit where you asked me not to leave you. Three times."

Face going blank as his heart jumped in his chest, Draco turned back to the sink and began making the tea, the sensation of his boyfriend's eyes on his every move making him roll his shoulders in agitation. "I was just glad you're home, Potter, that's all. Don't read anything else into it."

"No," Harry said, and Draco suddenly stilled when the other man placed a hand on the middle of his back, right over his abruptly racing heart. He hadn't even heard him move. "No, it's more than that. Talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," Draco muttered, staring down at the two cups sitting on the bench. His eyes closed when Harry's hand rubbed his back gently then moved to his shoulder and drew him around.

"Yes, obviously there is. Don't shut me out, Draco. Whatever it is, remember, we're in this together."

Sighing, the Malfoy heir opened his eyes and met Harry's bright green gaze, the eyes he'd been dreaming about since he was a teenager calm and steady. Unless he was feeling heavily, Harry had gotten good at hiding his emotions in the final year and the year following the war, and it now took someone who knew him well to read what was swimming deep within the green.

Draco knew him very well.

"It was nothing, really," he said quietly, the worry he could see in Harry's eyes prompting him to talk. "Just something my father said."

"What did he say?"

The Slytherin shrugged nonchalantly. "That it was about time I ended what we have before you came to your senses and ended it before I had the chance."

There was a startled beat of silence before Harry abruptly let out a burst of laughter, making Draco scowl.

"Oh, come on, really? Your father doesn't know us at all, does he?" he chuckled, eyes dancing. Draco turned back to the counter and began playing with the tea again.

"Draco?"

_Boil the kettle, teabags in the cups. Bloody hell, where's a good tea set when you need one?_

"Draco? Christ, you don't  _believe_  him, do you? You can't think he's on to something?"

The disbelief and shock in the whispered query had Draco's hands pausing over the handle of the kettle before falling to the countertop, his shoulders hunching. He didn't want to talk about this. They were his own insecurities, why couldn't he keep them to himself?

"Draco? Goddamn it, talk to me!"

"Fine!" Draco spat, spinning around so suddenly that Harry took a step back in surprise. "You want to talk about this, Potter? Fine, we'll talk. Yes, he's probably onto something, because, for Merlin's sake, he's just saying what everyone else is thinking! You're Harry fucking Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Saviour of the wizarding world! And who they hell am I, hmm? No one, that's who! I'm Draco Malfoy, son to a pureblood supremacist, a Death Eater carrying a hated Mark on his body and someone who's no way  _near_  good enough for the Golden Boy! I've known that from the moment we got together, as has everyone else, and at times I'm fucking  _terrified_  that it's only a matter of time before you realize that as well and move on to someone who's worthy of you!"

His breath was escaping him in harsh pants by the time he closed his mouth, his eyes wide and more than a little frantic as he stared at Harry, whose face had gone blank with shock the more Draco had shouted. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment before something flashed through Harry's eyes and he abruptly turned away.

"You think so little of me?"

Draco blinked. "What?"

"You think so little of me?" Harry repeated in a calm, quiet voice, busying his hands with picking up mail of the kitchen table and sorting through it. "You think I'm going to abandon you at the first available opportunity, so you must not think much of me at all. Which I suppose makes sense, considering you called me all those ridiculous nicknames that represent the way others see me, not who I am as a person. Not the man who fell in love with you in school against his will, still loves you now at twenty-three, and will continue to love you until we're both old and grey and can't remember our own names, and probably even beyond that. I thought you knew me better than that. I thought you trusted me. But obviously not."

His voice had that distant, chilly timbre to it that only happened when Harry was very hurt and didn't want to show it. Draco opened his mouth and closed it again as both his gut and heart twisted painfully. He hadn't meant to that way at all.

"No, Harry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what way  _did_  you mean it?" the brunette snapped, eyes ablaze as he whipped back around. "Huh, Draco? How else am I supposed to take it? You have next to no trust in me if you think I'm going to walk away from the best bloody thing that's ever happened to me, all because of a Goddamn tattoo on your arm! I love you! That's never going to stop!"

"I love you, too!"

"Then why are you questioning me?" Harry cried. "Why are you doubting me? Why are you letting you father get into your head and mess with us? I thought we were solid, a unit! It's been you and me for the past three years and I thought it was always going to be just us!"

"It is!" Draco replied frantically, taking a step forward and halting in shock when his boyfriend took one back. "It is always going to be you and me! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, please don't walk away. Don't walk away from me, please, Harry."

Then Gryffindor's face softened a little at the plea, a heavy sigh making his body slump. "But that's the problem, isn't it? For some reason you think I  _am_  going to walk away. Have I not proved how much I love you? Is that the issue?"

"No, no, that's not it at all," Draco retorted, his words running together in his haste to make the other man understand. He took another tentative step forward, and when Harry swallowed and didn't take one back, he strode over and wrapped his arms around him in a vice-like grip, burying his face against Harry's throat. "I'm stupid, an idiot, the world's biggest poncey, insecure, brainless git, and I'm so, so sorry. Please don't listen to me, I've no clue what I was going on about, I love you and trust you and I  _know_  you won't leave me, I do, I really do."

Harry sighed again, his arms coming up to wrap around Draco in return. "Then why did you question me?"

"I wasn't questioning you, Harry. I wasn't," Draco insisted when he felt his boyfriend shift in protest. "It was never about you, not really." He took a reluctant step back and cupped his hands under the shorter man's jaw, lifting it until he could see his eyes. "This had more to do with my fucked up family than it does you. I don't doubt you love me and please don't ever think that I don't love you. It's just that I'm not as optimistic or as confident as you are. I have an almost sick need to prove myself to my parents. Their opinion matters to me more than it should, and I let missing you make me more vulnerable to my father's barbs last night, as well as apparently this morning. I love you, Harry; endlessly, and I know you feel the same. I do know that, it's just sometimes I let the outside world influence the way I think and act, and I know I shouldn't. It sucks arse to be an ex-Death Eater in a post-war world where the Light won, and it's horribly hard not to let the opinions of others sway me when I'm trying to be happy and move on with my life. Please don't think I doubt your feelings. I don't. I'm just bloody fucked up, as you very well know."

He stared down expectantly into those infinite green eyes. Harry stared back.

"Wow. I think that's the most complex speech about your feelings that I've ever heard. You're not going soft on me, are you, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes widened before a sharp burst of laughter rang through the room, Harry's cheeky grin making him feel happy and content and so very relieved. The laughter still on his lips, he leant down and pressed his mouth to his boyfriend's, the other man answering him eagerly until they were both panting and out of breath. Draco breathed out a long, shaky sigh, pulled away and rested his forehead against Harry's.

"I love you, Harry Potter. So much."

"I love you too, Draco Malfoy."

Draco grinned. "I know."

Harry's laughter made the grin widen. The Gryffindor stepped back and took Draco's hand, tugging him back towards the bedroom, a wicked look shining from those eyes.

"Now, sir, I believe you had an idea last night that didn't come to fruition. Care to correct that situation?"

"I think we can come to some sort of arrangement," Draco replied with a smirk, his hand wrapped around the other man's. As they eagerly sped towards the bedroom, stopping only to kiss and fumble with clothing, the image of Harry's hand in his stayed with the Slytherin, seemingly stamped in his mind.

He'd found something with his once-enemy that he'd never thought he'd find. He loved the wizard with every breath he took and that was never going to change. Draco smirked quietly to himself as his lips swept down Harry's throat to nibble at the hollow of his collarbone, making the other man moan.

Lucius Malfoy, his plans and opinions, as well as everyone else's, could go straight to hell. Because Draco was right where he wanted to be. He and Harry were right where they were, the only place they could be, and that was somewhere they happily intended to stay for many, many years to come.


End file.
